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Last Updated: 2 Apr 2018 - 8:45:17 PM |
Simon Mulvany is 28 and is riding his first Ras for the Meath M. Donnelly team. Below is a diary of his first ever day on the country's biggest bike race.
Saturday 22nd May, 10.30m: Time for bed. Tomorrow is a big day. The FBD Milk Rás is a big race. The biggest in the country in fact. Eight days of eyeballs out racing through towns and villages and across some of the biggest mountains in the country. It's harder than any other race all year. Or so I'm told. I've been told enough stories about the Rás in the past few weeks to make me want to change my mind about riding it for the first time this year. How savage hard the racing is, especially now the pro's are allowed ride. How long the line-outs last for. Nothing like a Rás line-out they say. Riding in the gutter with your head down, arse up and teeth gritted in a snake-like line of riders as the wind and rain batter your already fatigued body for mile after mile, everybody praying there'll be a lull any minute soon. Sure you couldn't beat that with a big stick! I wonder how hard it's really going to be? Can't be much harder than Rás Mumhan in Munster can it? Hope not. Was just about surviving there and that was only a four day race! Maybe it's like riding eight Shay Elliott Memorials in a row? Couldn't be that hard, could it? 10.35pm. Go to sleep Simon, tomorrow is a big day.
I wonder if there'll be many people in Stamullen tomorrow. Our club has organised music and stuff for the village and even on top of the first KOM at Greenanstown. Our names are painted all over the road. Sweetman (Craig), Moore (Robert and Bill), Slane (Paul) and me. Mulvany. We drove up the hill earlier this evening after the team dinner. It was great to see my name on the road, but do the locals expect us to win the KOM or maybe the HOT SPOT sprint in the village? I hope I don't get dropped on the climb. Or worse still, what if I puncture before Stamullen. I mightn't get back on. The speed these guys go at. Now that would be a disaster! Would the people know I punctured or would they just think I was crap? "I knew he shouldn't have started" I can hear an old woman wearing a headscarf say. What time is it? Shit! 11.40pm. Should be fast asleep by now. Come on Simon. Cop on. Get some rest.
Okay Simon, looks like you're not gonna get much sleep tonight. This is the third time I've been awake already and it's only half twelve! Just keep the eyes closed, try not to wake Nikki. She wouldn't understand anyway. What if I get in the break tomorrow? That would be great. Riding through your home club's village and all the crowd shouting your name. "GO ON SIMON!" "GO ON YOUNG MULVANY". "He's going to win the stage you know!" the old woman in the headscarf would say. Relax! Stop twisting. Get comfortable. Sleep. Sleep Sleeeeep.
10am Sunday 23rd May. I'm normally a morning person. But last night was the worst night's sleep I had in about three years. The trip into Dublin with the lads in the car this morning was good for the morale, the slagging and the novelty of being in a new team car took my mind off the race. Arriving at the West County Hotel however, I can see the foreign teams getting ready. They have team-issue bikes, all the same colour. They have tanned legs, Arnold Schwarzeneger accents and cool sunglasses. Ignore them Simon. Sign-on.
Craig is getting his legs rubbed by Emma, the team masseuse. He's been on the Irish team and ridden the Rás seven times. Telegael have a camera stuck in his face. He's lapping it up. Big smile for the camera Craig! Slaner is sitting in his wife's car beside the team van. He's the epitome of cool. He's ridden the Ras only once before but a couple of World Championships and an Olympics in Barcelona not to mention numerous outings in the green jersey have honed his pre-race routine. Nothing fazes him. Slaner is a God! Bill and Robert are doing their bickering siblings bit again. The Moore brothers are gas characters. Bill has ridden eight Ras', two on the Irish team. Robert is about to begin his third and they are like chalk and cheese. It's the first time they've been on the same team in the Ras. They shake hands and pose for photos to commemorate the fact. They'll probably be back to strangling each other this evening! Hope they don't see my hands shaking as I pull on my Meath M. Donnelly jersey.
11.40am: At last we're moving. Rolling out to the GPO, where we will have a ceremonial start. There's two ways to get on TV in the Ras, the easy way and the hard way. We all choose the easy way and sneak up to the front beside the Irish team on the start line. David McCann laughs and asks what we're doing up there and Bill tells him that Gaybo told him to hold the wheel and he was following team orders. Big smile for the camera Craig!
1.00pm And the white flag has been raised and they're off! After a neutralised section of almost 10 miles the Ras is underway. Not feeling too bad so far. Stephen O' Sullivan rides alongside, tells me I'll be grand. No bother, he says. This is grand.
1.15pm: What was that? Did I just ride over a stone, or did I hit a hole? Hard to see in a bunch this size. Oh NO! Is my back wheel getting soft? It is! It is! The fucking thing is almost flat! SHIT!!! What do I do now? Put your hand up Simon. Don't panic! But it's only five miles into the stage! Am I going to be dropped for the rest of the day? What will the old woman in the headscarf in Stamullen say now? Stop at the side of the road. Take out my back wheel. The neutral service mechanic has a new wheel for me. "Is it a ten speed block?" "Yeah" "PHEW!" A few seconds later I'm back on the road but have lost a bit of ground. As I pass some of the cavalcade, I see Craig up ahead of me. His computer was rubbing off his front wheel so he stopped when he saw me puncture. He was afraid of getting dropped on his own too! We ride hard. Well, Craig does really. There's a knot in my stomach. A Great Britain guy has punctured too. Let him ride. (No point in killing yourself Simon.) The numbers on the back windows of the cars are down to single figures. We're nearly there. We're back on. The woman in the headscarf wipes a bead of sweat from her brow.
1.45pm. Stamullen Village. There is a breakaway group up the road so I won't be winning the HOT SPOT sprint but at least I'm not dropped. There is a massive crowd out to cheer us on. The atmosphere is fantastic. No sign of the woman in the headscarf though! Maybe she's waiting on the hill. Slaner is riding well, up in the top 20 or so all day. He crests the hill comfortably. Bill and Craig are side by side while Robert is just in front of me to the left. There's a good crowd on the hill and I'm still in contact. A lot of the Irish guys give me encouragement during the stage. Does it really show that I'm that nervous?
2.10pm Slane Hill. I'm still here. Robert has gone back to the team car and gotten everybody a bottle. Fair play to him! Don't think I'd chance that. I'd look a bit stupid if I couldn't get back on. The lads might die of thirst. Slaner's still up the front somewhere. He's missed the vital move though and will kick himself afterwards. The knot in my stomach is still there. What is it? It's not indigestion. It must be stress. Maybe it's the panic of the puncture. Or lack of sleep. I don't know.
3.45pm We're at the 5km to go sign and the knot in my stomach has mysteriously disappeared. Maybe it's because I know now I'm going to be ok. I'll finish safely in the bunch and won't lose any time.
4pm Trim. The first 80 miles or so of this year's FBD Milk Ras have passed under my wheels and I'm not doing too bad so far. I still have to experience a Ras lineout but I know it's coming. Emma is at the finish and gives us all fresh bottles and some food and we head for our accommodation.
7pm Newgrange Hotel. I'm rooming with Craig but we're all in Slaner's room watching the Lyrics Board on RTE. While most of us are slagging off the contestants, Bill has his eyes closed and is belting out a rendition of a Madonna song. To keep up the tradition of not letting your brother get one better than you Robert is singing even louder. Hope Craig doesn't snore. I need my sleep tonight. Tomorrow is a big day.
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